Pregnant
by ttfan111robstar1
Summary: What if Katniss really was pregnant during the Quarter Quell?
1. The Announcement

"Maybe I'd think that, too, Caesar," says Peeta bitterly, "if it weren't for the baby."

My heart comes to a stop and my hands fly to my stomach.

They knew now. They all knew.

The tender intimacies shared by Peeta and I on the train are now public knowledge. But, any privacy we may have once had had vanished when we were named the victors of the seventy-fourth Hunger Games. I had, however, foolishly thought that this particular piece of my relationship with Peeta would remain between us. I should have known that nothing could be hidden anymore.

The audience can't absorb the news right away. It has to strike them and sink in and be confirmed by other voices before they begin to sound like a herd of wounded animals, moaning, shrieking, calling for help.

The buzzer sounds, but the crowd is still riled up in a frenzy. Peeta shakes Caesar's hand, and comes to me with tearful eyes. I embrace him tightly, shedding a few tears of my own. I knew what he was thinking- I could practically see the wheels turning in his head. He was prepared to die to keep me alive. He would become a martyr to keep our baby and me alive. I couldn't let him do it. I could never let our baby live without a father. I knew what that was like, and how much it hurt.

No. He wasn't going to die. I won't let him.

As he pulls back from our embrace, I see the fear in his eyes. It sends a current of fear through me. As we hold hands with the other tributes, I'm barely keeping it together.

When the cameras shut off, I turn my face away, a few stray tears leaking down my cheeks. I quickly run off of the stage, dragging Peeta behind me.

Haymitch and Effie are waiting in the wings, faces agape at the bomb Peeta had dropped. At first, Haymitch believed it was a publicity stunt, but now, seeing me cry, he believes. Peeta finally stops and cradles my face in his hands, whispering reassurances in my ear. I nod my head woodenly. Haymitch and Effie come up behind us, encircling us like a wall of protection. Other tributes pass us, and I can feel their stares boring into me. Some are sympathetic, others were indifferent. Effie's hands find purchase on my shoulders. Peeta grips my hand tightly as we break apart. We are the last to leave.

We leave in silence.


	2. The Arena

**Authors Note: Holy Cow! Nine follows and two favorites in one night! I'm so flattered! Thank you guys so much! You all asked for the story to continue, and you got it! I hope this chapter lives up to your expectations! Reviews are welcomed and encouraged. Enjoy!**

Peeta holds me through the night, terror consuming us both. The Quarter Quell was tomorrow. Mere hours stood between us and another round in the Hunger Games. The silence between us is not broken until our stylists arrive. I kiss him quickly before Cinna arrives, and I am once again held hostage to my fears as Cinna explains the suit I am wearing. Before I know it, they call for the sixty second warning. I hug Cinna tightly. When I pull away, he pins on my mockingjay pin.

"Remember girl on fire, I'm still betting on you."

"Ten seconds." I enter the pod, and the door shuts.

Suddenly, peacekeepers rush in and begin beating Cinna. I am screaming as his blood is spilt all over the floor. But before I know it, I'm rising up and above ground. The sun is in my eyes and I look away before blinking several times. It's an ocean with spokes of sand. The rest of the arena is covered in thick and lush jungle. I barely have enough time to wonder where Peeta is when I hear the countdown.

The countdown always seemed so ominous to me.

Every second counted was a second closer to death. The air always stills and everything gets quiet. Everyone, no matter how young or old, knew that for some, this was the last taste of life they would get.

The Announcer comes on, and the games commence. I dive into the saltwater below my pedestal and begin to swim to the sandy shore where the cornucopia was. I reach it quickly enough and bolt for a Golden Bow and Arrow set, and take my aim for anyone who would try and come near me. Finnick comes by me, and I nearly decide to shoot an arrow into his heart before I see the gold bracelet on his wrist. It was a sign from Haymitch. To trust him. As Finnick gathers weapons, I keep my Arrow aimed for anyone who dared to come near me. I see Enobaria swimming slowly toward the shore, and make an attempt to shoot her, but she dodges easily. Finnick offers to get Peeta for me, and I cautiously accept, consistently reminding myself that Haymitch said to trust him. Finnick comes back with Peeta rather quickly, and Mags swims up to us. The others gather their weapons while I stand guard, and soon we begin our descent into the jungle. Peeta goes ahead of us, slashing through vines with his knife.

Then, I see it. The wavering.

I'm about to warn everyone when Peeta's knife hits it and sends him flying back into Mags and Finnick. I let out a frightened squeak and rush over to him. I put my ear to his chest, where I know I will always hear the strong, steady beating of his heart.

Instead, I find silence.

* * *

"Peeta!" I shake him, and even resort to slapping him, but it's no use. I am slapping emptiness. Finnick goes to him, and I am sure he is going to make sure Peeta is dead. I shriek and make a break for him, but Finnick hits me so squarely in the chest that I am sent flying backward. I go to attack him again, but I see Finnick Kissing Peeta. It's so bizarre that I stare at him a minute before I realize what he's doing. I'd seen my mother do it once in a blue moon, but she didn't have the set rhythm that Finnick did. Suddenly, Peeta's eyes flutter open. Relief cracks my heart open, and I now see that I've been crying.

"You were dead! You're heart just stopped." I blurt out, my voice breaking on the word "dead".

"It's okay, it's working now." He says calmly. I kiss him. I want to laugh, but it comes out as a sob.

"Katniss?" He's worried about me- it's madness. I get off of him and help him up. He moves to stand behind me and puts his hands on my shoulder.

"It's okay, it's just her hormones from the baby." Finnick remarks. Peeta's arm snakes around me and his hand lingers on my stomach as he kisses my cheek.

"It's alright, Katniss." Peeta says, quietly. I nod, trying to pull myself together. It's been much harder to keep stone faced lately, a side effect of the pregnancy no doubt.

The nausea hit me like a Mac truck.

I wriggle my way out of Peeta's arms and bolt for a brush nearby to vomit in. I hit my knees on the ground just in time to throw up. Peeta immediately comes rushing up behind me, rubbing slow circles on my back as I continue to vomit and retch. I'm gasping for breath in between retches, but the moist, balmy air gives me nothing but more air to choke on. After a few minutes, I'm panting, trying to bring my breathing back to normal. Peeta is whispering something in my ear, but I am too weak to hear him. I lean against the stronghold of his chest, placing one hand on my stomach and entwining my fingers with his with the other. My Vision is becoming spotty, and I can hear the sound of twigs cracking and brush moving. Finnick and Mags are there, looking at us like we're nuts.

I lose the weak grip I have on consciousness, and I collapse to the ground.

* * *

I wake what must be several hours later. Peeta, despite having died earlier in the day, is carrying me in his arms. For him, it was some testosterone-adrenaline fueled act of love, and I'm certain President Snow is watching this sweet moment between Peeta and I. When I open my eyes, the first thing I see is Peeta's face against a rosy sky.

There was a secret we'd shared together that no one knew about. While Peeta mentioned to Caesar about the toasting and how we were already married, nobody knew that we actually gotten legally married.

When I had figured out I was pregnant, I ran the twenty five feet to Peeta's home. Greeting me with a loaf of hot bread, I quietly told him the news as we sat together near his fireplace. I can still recall the look of total shock on his face. A dozen emotions flickered through his eyes at one time, beginning with surprise and ending with love. He kissed me so sweetly and tenderly, and then asked me if I would do the traditional toasting with him. Of course, I said yes.

When we found out about the Quarter Quell, we knew the time had come for drastic action. We had spoken to Effie about our little nuptial endeavor, and she had joyfully agreed to help us. She came down to district twelve bearing the forms and marriage license we needed to fill out. We had an officiant wed us in the deepest of night, with Prim, Effie, and Haymitch as our only guests. When I had kissed Peeta that night, I was no longer Katniss Everdeen, the girl on fire. I was Katniss Mellark- Peeta's wife. It was a position I didn't take lightly.

Now, looking at my husband and locking eyes with him, I saw the spark there. It was the same spark I'd found when we'd first made love- the night that our blessed child was conceived. I kissed him chastely before sitting up.

"Good evening, Mrs. Mellark." He said with a grin. He loved calling me that. I just rolled my eyes and cuddled against him.

"Good evening to you, Mr. Mellark." I grinned. I looked around and saw that the area around us was different from earlier. "What did I miss?"

"Eight are gone. We moved here to make camp for the night, and we have yet to find any fresh water."

Just as he says it, a silver parachute lands near us. I crawl over to open it, and then retreat back into Peeta's waiting arms. It's a small cylindrical thing that I recognize instantly.

"It's a spile!" I say, before jamming it into the nearest tree. Moments passed with nothing happening, but then, at last! A small stream of water. We all take turns drinking the water and splashing it on our sweat-drenched faces.

Soon, night comes. I volunteer to take the first watch, seeing as I slept all day. Peeta sleeps soundly, and I'm at peace for a moment.

Until I see a rolling fog coming toward us.


	3. Tick Tock

It's actually graceful and majestic, this fog, but I'm instantly wary of it. I carefully reach out to touch it and shriek as it burns me.

"Run!" I scream, "Run! The fog's poisonous!"

Everyone bolts up like they've had a nightmare. I yank Peeta up and forward. Finnick hoists Mags onto his back, but the fog catches him and he screams. He sprints forward, catching up with me. Peeta's limping, unable to move quickly from his run in with the force field. The fog catches Peeta and he shrieks. It slows him down, and I'm terrified he'll die.

"I can't carry them both!" Finnick says. Mags hops down, kisses Finnick's cheek, and then runs into the fog. I feel sick to my stomach as Mags body does a crazed dance before falling to the ground. Finnick picks up Peeta and we run. My legs are burning like never before, and I can barely catch my breath. When I finally stop, I look at the fog, and it hits an invisible wall. I pant tiredly, just wanting relief. Finnick sets Peeta down and he takes my hand. I go over to the saltwater, and put my poisoned hand into the water. I scream, feeling like the water is a highly corrosive acid. Peeta lays down in the water, as does Finnick. The sound of screams fills the night as both of them lay in the water, quite literally pouring salt in their wounds.

After we are sufficiently soaked, we walk on the warm and powdery sand, beginning to make camp. I can see the exhaustion in Finnick's eyes, and for a moment I can do nothing but feel his loss.

"I'm sorry about Mags." I say quietly. He looks at me with a glance that says more than his words ever could. I can see that he doesn't want my pity, but I'm speaking to him in a emphatic way. I understand what he saw. I can feel his heartbreak.

The overexertion, emotional stress, and dehydration have taken their toll on me, and I run into the jungle to get sick.

When I look up after that, however, there is a monkey staring at me.

Immediately I get a bad feeling that manifests itself as a knot in my stomach. I back away slowly, and then run as fast as I can. The monkeys chase me with their primal shrieks, and all I can think of is getting to my bow and arrows. When I get there, Finnick has his trident at the ready, and Peeta has his knife. I scramble for my arrows and we begin our battle with the primates.

Not even ten minutes later, they suddenly depart from us.

Confusion sweeps through me. Why have they gone? Not that I'm ungrateful for their retreat, but still... It was almost militant in nature.

The game makers design these games to be lethal, always. The torture isn't supposed to stop. The fog was one thing- easily conjured, simple. But whenever animals are involved, particularly when in the mauling of other people, they usually aren't stopped.

It's just another puzzle piece for me to try and figure out.

I lean into Peeta, hoping that for just one moment our tiny trio will be left alone.

The minutes run into each other, and my sense of time is jumbled.

I set my hand on my stomach. I wonder briefly how my baby is.

Suddenly, I feel this flittering in my stomach, a sensation I can't quite explain. For a moment I think it's from a lack of food, but then it hits me like a ton of bricks.

I shoot up like a rocket and let out a gasp. Peeta is by me in an instant.

"Katniss?" His voice is tinged with worry and fear.

"It's moving." I whisper. "Our baby is moving."

For me, time had stopped completely. It was one thing to be pregnant, but when I felt the baby inside of me move, my entire worldview had been turned on it's head.

This baby was real.

A living, breathing creature was inside of me. An expression of my eternal love for Peeta was moving inside of me, and suddenly I was imbued with the knowledge that I would die for this baby.

Peeta looks at me, bewildered and awed. Slowly, he came to sit in front of me. Keeping eye contact with me, he places both hands on my stomach. The flitting feeling comes back, but it's not enough for Peeta to feel.

"It's moving." I say, to reassure him. He smiles at me before kissing me.

The ruckus behind us makes us blush at our own passion and snaps us back to reality.

Johanna Mason is behind us, with Beetee and Wiress trailing her. All three are soaked in blood. I can hear Wiress murmuring "tick tock" over and over and over again. I walk over to her.

"Tick Tock."

"Yes, Tick Tock." I say. "Now let's get you cleaned up."

I lead Wiress into the salt water of the beach and scrub the blood from her face as she continues to "Tick Tock" robotically. As she keeps repeating it, I begin to think about why that particular phrase is the one she's repeating. I look up and see lightning strike the tree. As I look at the spokes of sand, It finally hits me: The arena is a clock!


	4. Terror

"It's a clock... It's a clock! Wiress you're a genius!" I praise. Wiress looks at me with this relieved happy smile that makes me serene. Then, she begins singing nursery rhymes. The others come over to us and we converge at the cornucopia, where I map out the first few hours of the day.

Suddenly, it's too quiet. I look and see Wiress' throat being slit. I shoot an arrow into the male tribute. The canon fires twice. Then, the cornucopia is spinning and I'm hanging on to the rock for dear life. As I begin to fall, Johanna catches me, but I soon slip from her grip and am sent tumbling into the raging waters. I stick my head out of the water and am gasping for air. One of my hands instinctively goes to my abdomen as I try to protect my tiny baby. Peeta helps me out of the water as I cough and lean against him.

"Are you okay?" He asked, concerned eyes looking me over.

"I'm fine." I say, but inside I'm not so sure.

"Let's get off this island." Johanna says. For once I hastily agree with her. We move back onto the shore toward the tree line.

"Katniss, got that spile?" Finnick asks, snapping me back to reality. I cut the vine that ties the spile to my belt and hold the metal thing out to him.

"I have a plan." Says Beetee.

That's when I hear the scream. So full of fear and pain it ices my blood. And so familiar. I drop the spile, forget where I am or what lies ahead, only know I must reach her, protect her. I run wildly in the direction of the voice, heedless of danger, ripping through vines and branches, through anything that keeps me from reaching her.

From reaching my little sister.

"Prim!" I screech, desperate to find her. She screams again and my sanity is being ripped to pieces by it. Then, I see it. The bird above me, making the horrid noises.

It's a Jabberjay.

Another torturous device by the game makers.

Finnick is coming toward me.

"it's okay, I'm okay. It's-" and then there's a screech I don't recognize. The terror on Finnick's face shoots fear through me. He bolts forward, screaming,

"Annie! Annie!"

I follow him in hot pursuit, which is easy because he leaves a beaten path in his wake. Finally, he stops and I climb up and shoot the offending Jabberjay. Slowly, Finnick makes the connection.

"It's not her, Finnick. It's not your... Annie."

The look on Finnick's face is so broken that it scares me.

"No, it's not Annie. But the voice was hers. Jabberjays mimic what they hear. Where did they get those screams, Katniss?" he says. I can feel my own cheeks grow pale as I understand his meaning.

"Oh, Finnick, you don't think they ..."

"Yes. I do. That's exactly what I think," he says.

The Jabberjays attack again with Gale's voice.

"It's not him, Katniss!" Finnick pulls at my arm. I run with him, trying to process what Finnick has said through the screaming. I can see Peeta and Johanna and I angrily wonder why my Husband hasn't come to my aid.

Finnick and I run smack into the force field. I bounce back at least a foot. The birds arrive and more screams join us. I can see Peeta trying to get through to me, but I can't hear him. I curl up on the sand, and clamp my hands over my ears, breaking down into sobs. I put my hand on my stomach, and try to cling to the last thread of sanity I have left.

I know the hour is over when I feel Peeta's hands on mine.

"It's alright, Katniss." He says.

I'm still a sobbing wreck, and I lean into Peeta's chest.

I didn't realize I was shaking until now.

Peeta gathers me into his arms, smoothing things over by comforting and reassuring me.

By the time we get back to Beetee, I'm somewhat stable again.

"I have a plan." He says. If you were Brutus and Enobaria, knowing what you do now about the jungle, where would you feel safest?" Beetee asks. There's nothing patronizing in his voice, and yet I can't help thinking he reminds me of a schoolteacher about to ease children into a lesson. Perhaps it's the age difference, or simply that Beetee is probably about a million times smarter than the rest of us.

"Where we are now. On the beach," says Peeta. "It's the safest place."

"So why aren't they on the beach?" says Beetee.

"Because we're here," says Johanna impatiently.

"Exactly. We're here, claiming the beach. Now where would you go?" says Beetee.

I think about the deadly jungle, the occupied beach.

"I'd hide just at the edge of the jungle. So I could escape if an attack came. And so I could spy on us."

"Also to eat," Finnick says. "The jungle's full of strange creatures and plants. But by watching us, I'd know the seafood's safe."

Beetee smiles at us as if we've exceeded his expectations. "Yes, good. You do see. Now here's what I propose: a twelve o'clock strike. What happens exactly at noon and at midnight?"

"The lightning bolt hits the tree," I say.

"Yes. So what I'm suggesting is that after the bolt hits at noon, but before it hits at midnight, we run my wire from that tree all the way down into the saltwater, which is, of course, highly conductive. When the bolt strikes, the electricity will travel down the wire and into not only the water but also the surrounding beach, which will still be damp from the ten o'clock wave. Anyone in contact with those surfaces at that moment will be electrocuted," says Beetee.

It's brilliant. But it's Beetee, so I didn't expect anything less.

"It's perfect." Says Peeta. We all nod our heads in agreement.

Dusk settles over the arena, and we begin our trek to the lightning tree. As we walk, I begin to feel horrible, intense back pain. The pain is so bad that I'm less than an inch from crying. My face is screwed up and working. I don't know that until Peeta looks at me, and his eyes grow wide.

"Katniss? What's wrong?" He puts his hands on my shoulder. I'm sweating, not from the arena, but from the pain.

"Nothing." I say through gritted teeth. He gives me a look that says he knows me better.

"I'm just having a lot of back pain."

"Then you aren't walking anymore."

"I'll be-"

Peeta shoots me a look so dark that I can't even bring myself to say the word fine. He picks me up like I weigh nothing, and the back pain stops for a moment.

We arrive quickly, and Peeta sets me on my feet to go and help Beetee. Beetee wraps the coil around the tree. As he does, I feel a pain in my stomach that instantly tells me something is wrong. My hands fly to my stomach.

"Peeta," I say, tears rushing down my face as my voice breaks on his name. "Peeta!"

He's by my side instantly, looking terrified at the fear in my voice.

"I think something's wrong with the baby.

The pain in my stomach escalates and I can't stand anymore. I collapse onto my side, clutching my stomach. I'm in so much pain I want to scream, but I'm holding it back. I can't give our position away. Peeta picks me up, and I can feel his Panic.

Beetee's ready for Johanna and I to take the coil, but I can't move. He asks Peeta to, but he refuses.

"She's my wife, Damn it! I'm not leaving her!" Peeta looks at them with the most deadly glare I've ever seen. Finnick leaves to run the coil and Johanna is quick to kneel down to us and whispers quietly,

"Hold out your arms. We have to get your trackers out."

Peeta does, and screeches. She does it to me, but the pain in my stomach is worse. Suddenly, the airlift is hovering over Peeta and I. We're lifted up into the craft, and I'm taken out of Peeta's arms and whisked away to the hospital bay. Peeta is behind me. The doctors patch up his arm as he sits next to me, face ashen with terror.

The hospital strips me of my suit, and I am terrified to see the blood on my legs. The doctors quickly try and stop the bleeding, and they succeed. Then, they go and bring an ultrasound in. Squirting cold goo on my pelvis, they look inside my stomach.

"I'm sorry, Mrs. Mellark." The doctor says, quietly.

Peeta and I weep together.


	5. Hope

I'm screaming at the top of my lungs, the word "why?!" Is shrieked to an invisible audience. I've lost it. Any composure I once possessed is gone. Peeta is quiet, his hands on my shoulders as he tries to be strong for me. Despite himself, Peeta is crying, but he's still more silent with his anger.

I finally stop screaming when I dissolve into sobs.

The doctor enters through the doors. I don't look up.

"Mrs. Mellark, you have completely miscarried a child, but I need to look again. I thought I saw an anomaly in your stomach and I just want to see what it is."

Terror rips through my stomach like a knife. I am crushed like a bag of chips. I'm still sobbing into Peeta's chest, braying huge, horse sobs, and his tears are falling into my hair. The thought that there might be something else wrong with me is so jarring that I think I might faint with fear.

The doctor returns with the ultrasound machine and the cold blue goo that makes me flinch as it touches my pelvis. The nurse moves the odd shaped thing over my pelvis. The monitor is turned away from me, so I can only see the doctor adjust his glasses as he leans toward the device, squinting hard. A look of complete shock crosses his face, and I am more scared than ever.

"Mrs. Mellark," he says quietly. My stomach clinches. "Are you aware that you've been carrying twins?"

"What?" I blurt out in shock. My hand flies to my stomach. I lost two babies?! Before I can break down further, the doctor interrupts me.

"Apparently not." He says. He flicks this switch on the side of the monitor, and then I hear this sound, so soft that I have to lean forward. The doctor turns the monitor to me, and I see this bean-shaped thing on the screen. My breath catches in my throat.

"Mrs. Mellark, you miscarried one twin, but the other has miraculously survived."

Survived? I'm still working through what the doctor has said when it slowly hits me. Wait... Alive. The baby is alive! I'm ill prepared for the onslaught of emotions that stabs at my heart. I try and block them out.

"It's alive?" I'm gasping for breath as the tears streak down my face. I'm clutching Peeta's hand so hard I'm shocked his hand isn't broken. The hope that's burst open inside me is being strangled by the black tendrils of terror wrapping around my heart.

"Yes, it is." I fall forward in shock. My emotions are in a war between grief and joy. I figure I ought to grieve now. There will be plenty of time for happiness later. I get up and lean back and Peeta looks at me with this sad smile. It's like he's saying "isn't this great, Katniss? There's still a baby left... But it doesn't make up for the one we lost." I let out this bizarre choking sound and Peeta wraps his arms around me. I turn onto my side while I'm against his chest, and he's stroking my hair rhythmically. He's sobbing, too. His chest is unstable territory, moving up and down unevenly as he tries (and fails) to be strong. I put my right hand on his chest, hoping to calm him with my touch. It's unsuccessful, and I don't blame him. He curls over me in a protective manner, and I hold him to me as much as I can.

We are a devastated, broken hearted little family.

Peeta and I cry for so long that we don't notice when Haymitch comes over to us. I hear the woosh of the door, but I think it's the doctor. It's only when I smell the reek of whiskey that I know it's him.

"Yes?" I say, shakily.

"We've landed." He says. It's a simple phrase, and quiet (for Haymitch, at least). He sympathizes with us to the best of his ability. Besides Effie, Haymitch was the last person left we trusted.

The door wooshes open again, and Finnick and Plutarch come through the door. Peeta, shaking, helps me up. We don't look at each other. I look at Finnick, and his sea green eyes are locked on my red, tear stained face. He instantly knows- I can see it when pity fills his face. He says nothing, for which I am extremely grateful.

As soon as we get to the door, I realize I have no idea where we are.

The doors open, and instead of being in District 12, we're in District 13.


	6. Worn

**Author's Note: Hello everyone! I'm so sorry for not posting anything this past weekend, but I was incredibly busy and had a few surprises sprung on me during the time I could have spent writing. I promise that I haven't forgotten about you guys, and I really hope you all enjoy this chapter despite the wait. Enjoy!**

Before I exit the hovercraft I catch a glimpse of Peeta and myself in the shiny chrome of the side wall in the craft.

My eyes are red from crying, and somehow I seem to myself to have acquired some odd form of femininity. I look more delicate now, more fragile. My complexion has a pallor I've never seen before, but it only highlights my somewhat gaunt features. My eyes look like they've taken over my face. They are full of sadness.

But it's Peeta who really grabs my attention.

The large hands encompassing my shoulders are the only part of Peeta that looks strong. For the longest time Peeta had been my rock of invincible strength, the ray of sun no cloud could block. Now, seeing him so defeated was terrifying. His shoulders are haunched in and it makes him look so small and weak. I can feel him shaking against me.

But his face... The look will haunt me until the day I die.

His complexion is chalky like mine, but his face is crumpled. His eyes, once so full of mirth and laughter have turned into pools of despair and hopelessness. His mouth is turned into a tight line, but the sides are down and trembling as if he's about to cry. I can see where the lines will form on his face. He has aged a thousand years in less than two hours.

Suddenly, I feel as though the responsibility has been shifted, and it's my turn to be strong and bring comfort to him.

It occurs to me that this loss, although painful for me, must be devastating for Peeta.

Peeta, who had always wanted children. Peeta, who hadn't asked me for anything since we married. Where it had taken me months to begin loving our child, Peeta had loved it from the first time I told him I was expecting. His heart has been smashed to pieces. He was ready to love the child inside me with open arms.

It is at this moment that I feel more like a failure than I ever have in my entire life. Even with the games as an excuse, the intense amount of guilt I harbor cannot be surpassed. I tried so hard to protect my- _our _baby in the games, but it wasn't enough. I push the feeling away. I imagine an open box and put the feeling inside. I shut the lid and lock it in a closet to revisit it when I have the chance or have some privacy.

As we walk forward, my mother, Prim, and Gale are waiting for me. I hug each of them, but it's as if I'm watching them from outside of my body. The action is hollow. It's as if someone has taken the vivid strands of fabric that make up my life and has leached them grey. Every movement is forced, every smile a fake. It is only when I arrive in the bedroom I'll be sharing with Peeta and shut the door that we both lose our composure. Peeta loses his grip faster than I, and is silently sobbing into his hands. I sit next to him and wrap my arms around him, whispering words of comfort into his ear. I can tell that he's listening to me by his body language, but he's totally silent.

I have no words to comfort Peeta with. All I can do is hold him and kiss him gingerly. Slowly, his head comes up from his hands, and he looks at me like he's been a dog kicked across the room. I can see the question burning in his eyes. Why did this happen to us? I have no answer for him. I go and kneel in front of him and cup his face in my hands. I attempt to convey a silent message of hope to him with my eyes, but I don't think it's working.

"We have each other," I say quietly. "We still have one baby- that's a miracle in itself. We have so much to be thankful for. I hate seeing you this unhappy. What can I do to make you happy, sweetheart?"

The word "sweetheart" wakes him up a bit. Very seldom does any term of endearment pass from my lips. He smiles at me and squeezes my hands.

"Having you here is a Godsend."

I smile at him. It's wan and slightly forced, but it's the best I've got. He stands up, as do I, and we embrace. He squeezes me in this way that makes me feel so safe and loved.

We can get through this- I can feel it.

A knock comes at my door, and I open it to see Haymitch and Plutarch waiting for me.

"Welcome to the revolution, Katniss."


	7. Offer

I sit at a table, nestled between Peeta and President Alma Coin. What President Snow predicted had come to fruition. Full scale rebellion was taking place, and President Coin wanted me as the face of it. As she speaks I become aware of things in the room. District 13 smells of damp earth, the soup of the day in the mess hall, and a little bit of sewage. It's these smells that make my stomach roil. Before president Coin finishes her offer, I run from the room and throw up in the nearest bathroom. I can imagine Peeta struggling with wether to come to my aid and smoothing things over with Coin. He stays, and I can just barely hear him taking an apologetic tone. I come back, walking a bit unsteadily.

"My apologies." I say quietly.

President Coin looks at me with softened features.

"That's quite alright, Katniss." She says. It's as if she's trying to relate to me. "I heard about your miscarriage and I'm so sorry."

The elephant in the room has been addressed. I steal a glance at Peeta, whose happy mask is being chipped away. He reaches for my hand and I squeeze it hard.

"Thank you." I say quietly, trying to keep the emotion from my voice.

Coin asks me to be the Mockingjay, and I accept with the stipulations that I get to be the one to shoot Snow, and that when it comes time for me to deliver I get my own private room.

When we exit the room it's time for lunch. Peeta and I keep holding hands. I can feel Peeta's urgency. He needs me to keep some sort of contact with him to keep from falling apart. We've been keeping up a good front, trying to put there miscarriage behind us, but sometimes it comes up and we can't help it. I take my bowl of soup quickly and without complaint. Peeta and I take a seat with Beetee, who quickly begins a monologue about the weapons he's been designing. I'm extremely grateful for the distraction. Finnick takes a seat next to us.

Ever since Annie was seized by the Capitol, Finnick keeps a length of rope with him at all times. He ties different knots in it all the time. In our conversations together, we console each other, and try to reassure one another. I feel so bad for Finnick, who's true love has been taken away. I look at Peeta, whose been talking to Beetee. It makes me appreciate him so much more. Finnick barely touches his food. His sea green eyes, so focused during the games, are always wandering now. I'm sure that they're wherever Annie is. I wish I knew what to say to him when he looks like that, but I never do. Finnick shares a look with me, and his eyes are filled with sorrow. I can feel the heaviness of his burden.

I know they're planning some sort of rescue mission for those who were taken, but it hasn't been worked out yet. I can only assume Finnick is picturing that day- the day he is reunited with his love.

As lunch comes to an end, I am whisked away to officially begin my new career as the Mockingjay. Peeta is sitting on the sidelines, watching me. I know he sees the exhaustion on my face that the others can't.

Sleep has been a foreign entity to me for quite a while. Nightmares have plagued me since my first Hunger Games. Usually they kept to the arena and the train, but they've hunted me down ever since the miscarriage.

I do what they ask me to, hoping to keep this shooting short so that I can be left alone. Time to think has been something I haven't been granted enough of. Although, a part of me is terrified to have time to think for fear that I'll begin to brood over the baby I lost.

The propo is finished after the longest shoot I have ever endured. Peeta is still sitting there, giving me silent courage. He comes up behind me and gives me a kiss before wrapping an arm around my abdomen. He pushes me against him, and any bad feelings have been suddenly alleviated. We walk back to our room and sit together on the bed. Our arms are interlinked and for a while we sit in silence as I take five minutes to decompress after the shoot. Peeta moves me onto his lap. I lean my head on his chest and can hear his heartbeat. He kisses me on the head, and begins humming.

I recognize it instantly: it's the song they played at our wedding.

Instantly I'm transported back to that magical night, and all of my stress vanishes.

I'm back in District 12, and it's the dead of night. Peeta and I are in the middle of the Victor's village, and the officiant has just pronounced us Husband and Wife. Peeta looks at me with sparkling eyes, dressed in a white tux. In my wedding dress, I kiss him, and we're husband and wife at last. Tears of happiness are running down Peeta's face, and I brush each one away. Effie had arranged for a violinist and singer from the Capitol to come and give us our first- and possibly last- dance together. The violin was played softly and the singer sang of true love's passion. I'm nestled against Peeta, trying to savor the moment and lock it away in my heart for a rainy day. I look up at Peeta, who's looking at me like he's won the greatest prize he could ever receive. The confusion inside me deepens. _Why does he look at me that way? _Surely I'm not flawless... And then it hits me: he only sees the best in me, just like I see the best in him. I caress his cheek sweetly, and he closes his eyes at my touch.

"I love you." He says, his voice thick with emotion. I kiss him again.

"As I love you."

We share a smile before our lips become too busy to do anything else.


	8. Passion

**WARNING: This chapter contains graphic sexual imagery that is not appropriate for younger audiences.**

**Author's Note: This chapter may be skipped if you do not wish to read the following content.**

I wake the next morning devoid of all my energy. I didn't have any nightmares last night, but I had particularly vivid dreams. Peeta's arms were around me as they always had been when I woke in the middle of the night. I didn't move, but I verified where I was before falling back asleep. I know it's very early, likely four thirty in the morning, because my morning sickness onsets minutes after I get up. I work my way out of Peeta's arms, being careful not to wake him. After I get off of the bed, I make a mad dash for the bathroom. I make it to the toilet just in time. My throat and nose burn from the acid, and I choke. I retch until I'm finally able to breathe again. I sit up and look around the tiny bathroom. It's lit by an extremely oppressive fluorescent light. It's set up in a tiny stall. The toilet was Next to a small sink, and a shower was across from that. There's hardly any room to move. I'm sweating from the exertion. I get up, using the sink as a brace, and splash water on my face before brushing my teeth. The water is cooler, and I want to stay under it forever. I finally decide to take a shower, and savor the feel of the water on my skin.

I hear the stall door open, and I know it's Peeta. There is a curtain seperating us, and I stick my face out and see Peeta undressing. He looks at me with fiery passion. I grin- This was going to be an interesting morning.

"Mind if I join you?" He asks. I know he isn't asking for my permission. He finishes undressing, hungry eyes riveted on my naked body. He steps into the shower and I wait for him to make the first move. His Lips find my neck, and slowly make their way down to my shoulder. I gasp a little before turning around.

Peeta's looking at me, eyes filled with lust. I step toward him, the mere two inches between us are closed. Peeta's lips find mine and his tongue plunges into my mouth. I know he's turned on by my breasts pressing up against his pecs. I smash him into me, deepening our kiss. Peeta shuts the water off, and pulls a towel out. He dries off only our backs, and we make our way to the bed. We pull the covers over us and begin rolling in the sheets. When Peeta finally enters me, it's with the pent-up passion of too many sorrowful nights. A lust that had dropped with our current loss. But now Peeta was finally back to me, in mind, body, and soul. The friction and passion between us grows in animosity. My nails rake across his back as I build, getting closer and closer to climax. When I finally achieve orgasm, it's a rush of heat and happiness, and I cry out with joy. Peeta presses me as close as he reaches his own climax. Afterward, Peeta and I collapse into the bed, panting heavily. I cuddle into Peeta, and he wraps his arms around me. We are puzzle pieces that fit together perfectly. We spend the next two hours sharing chaste kisses and quiet sentiments of love. We only part when the day officially begins for the citizens of District 13, and we are forced to clothe ourselves. We hold hands as we walk to breakfast.

The mess hall is almost completely empty. There are only a few people milling about. Peeta and I sit alone, talking quietly with one another. Our eyes communicated much more than our words did. When the day was over, I was certain we would see more of each other again. Making love was an art we were going to try to perfect. When Finnick and Gale both find their way into the mess hall, Finnick immediately sits with us, tying knots in his rope as if he'll never be able to again. I can see the frantic worry in his eyes. The rescue mission was happening very soon. Anxiety mars Finnick's beautiful face, and I put my hand on his shoulder. He looks at me with a strange, grateful smile. When Gale sees Peeta and I he goes to another table, and I know he's furious with me because I chose Peeta over him.

Peeta, sensing my discomfort at Gale's inner fury but outer cold indifference, quickly scarfs down the rest of his breakfast and swiftly takes me out of the room. I can't help but feel hurt. The look he gave Peeta and I was one of fierce betrayal, but for Peeta it was like water rolling off of a duck's back. The glare of anger in Gale's eyes did not phase him in the least. It was only when I was uncomfortable that he decided to leave.

Peeta's strong arm is around my shoulders, and mine is around his waist. I think we're going to go do whatever's next on the schedule for today, but instead Peeta leads me back to our room in the compound.

"Why are we here?" I ask, confused.

"While you were in the bathroom this morning I went to convince President Coin to give you the day off. It took a little persuasion, but she said yes, and that I get to stay with you all day." By the end of the sentence we're sitting on the bed, and Peeta's whispering the last words into my ear. "We can do whatever we want." Suddenly, he's kissing me down my jawline and making his way down to my neck. I gasp slightly as he gives me a love bite at the nape of my neck.

And then suddenly I'm grabbing both sides of his face and smashing his lips to mine, trying to unbutton his shirt at the same time. He pulls my shirt over my head and I can feel him unhooking my bra. I kneel down and unbutton his pants, leaving him in nothing but his underwear. As I stand back up he removes his lips from mine. Keeping eye contact with me the entire time, he kneels down and unbuttons my pants, before very sexily pulling my zipper down with his teeth. The overwhelming passion consumes me, and I fling my pants away as soon as Peeta stands up. I throw myself on top of him, and we're making out like the teenagers we are.

My sense of time unravels, and the world around me melts away. In this blackness of pure, unadulterated passion, there is only us. Peeta and I are a single entity, inseparable and indestructible. As our lasciviousness reaches it's apex, we both explode as every nerve ending in our bodies were electric with pleasure. I look deeply into Peeta's eyes and give him a sweet kiss in contrast to the licentious ones we shared only a few seconds earlier.

"Are you going to keep me in here all day?" I tease.

"I have absolutely no problem with that. I would be a perfectly happy man if I could have you here in bed with me all day." He says. I kiss him again.

"Will you be singing the same tune when I become as fat as a whale and can't fit into my clothes anymore?"

"Believe me, I have no problem with nudity. I could keep you here for three whole months with nothing to do but make love to you all day long. That sounds like paradise to me." He kisses me on the forehead as I lie beside him. A lock of my brown hair gets into my face, and Peeta slowly and gently brushes it from my eyes before moving to caress my cheek.

"You're so beautiful." It's a heartfelt whisper reserved for me alone. I shut my eyes as Peeta runs his hands through my hair and listened to the soothing sound of his voice as he tells me how much he loves me. I pull him close to me as I drift off into unconsciousness with my head in the middle of his chest.


	9. Rescue

**Author's Note: Hello everyone! Thank you to all those who read the last chapter. I hope you enjoy this one!**

The rest of my day was spent with Peeta, taking a much-needed break. With the schedule of life in District 13, I know I won't get that often. For the sake of my baby I spend the rest of the day relaxing as much as I can. Peeta and I have finally reconnected physically, which strengthened our relationship tenfold. More importantly, we've finally reconciled the loss of our child, and have at last moved on to feeling pure joy at the surviving child growing inside of me.

I wake this morning to a feeling of blissful delirium. For once my nausea doesn't drive me out of bed, and I'm able to enjoy my time wrapped in Peeta's arms before he wakes up. I shut my eyes, enjoying the simple sensation of not having to get up and just staying in my warm bed.

Peeta stirs and I turn to face him, smiling.

"Morning." I say, softly. He lets out a groan and kisses me.

"Good morning." He nuzzles me.

"It's time to get up."

"Mmmm." He drags himself into a sitting position. I don't even want to get up, but I don't have a choice.

Today is the day of the rescue mission.

Peeta gets into the shower first, and I busy myself with making the bed and brushing my teeth until it's my turn. When I do get in the shower, I sigh in relief that the water is perfectly warm. When I jump out and get dressed I open the door to see Peeta offering me his arm as we go down to breakfast. I take it with a smile.

Finnick has beaten us to the mess hall this time, and today that's no surprise. He's tying knots in his rope furiously, clearly trying to relieve some of the anxiety about the day ahead of him. We sit with him, trying to talk casually, but there's a forced quality in our speech because of the big elephant in the room: no one knows what condition the Capitol hostages will be in. I know Finnick is swinging the emotional pendulum between hope and despair. I can see it in his eyes. What the rest of his face is trying to hide, his eyes give away. I put my hand on his shoulder.

"I'm sure she's going to be fine." I say, sounding confident. Inside, I'm not so sure. Finnick attempts a smile, but it fails. I don't blame him.

After breakfast there's a big send off for the soldiers infiltrating the Capitol. We're all painfully aware that this may be the last time we ever see some of them. Gale is up there, and I wave to him, unable to help the slight feeling of guilt that stays in my stomach. I am nestled between Peeta and Prim, holding both of their hands. My Mother is on Prim's other side, and puts her hands on her small shoulders. The soldiers board the helicopter and it hovers over us for just a minute before leaving.

I hope, for Finnick's sake, that everyone comes back okay.

Peeta puts his arm around me, and we meet with the camera team who is shooting my next propo. I am instructed on what to do by the director and go to work, but am berated multiple times for not making the right face.

I'm supposed to be looking like I'm preparing to fight, but all I can think of is the stress and anxiety Finnick must be going through. It's awful to want something you (possibly) can't have. I look over at Peeta who, really, has no scheduled assignments beside watching me. He was, to the best of my knowledge, my bodyguard. I completely agree with his job- who better to protect me than my husband? When I see Peeta, I can't help but wonder how I would feel if I were in Finnick's place. I try and picture the agonizing minutes as they pass him by all too slowly, and the feeling of helplessness he must feel. I go over and give Peeta a kiss. Trying to walk a mile in Finnick's shoes made me appreciate him a lot more.

"What was that for?" He asks. I have no answer for him.

I go back over and try to look how the cameramen want me to. It's a little easier to focus this time around. We break for lunch as the propo is coming closer to being finished. Peeta's hand finds it's way into mine as we walk to the mess hall. I brace myself for all of the possible moods of Finnick, and walk in to see him not there. I wonder briefly if he just couldn't eat until he found out about Annie. I take my lunch to my normal spot, hoping and praying that something good was going to happen today. Peeta, as always is beside me in only a moment. We don't talk about the question looming over us all, more so because it could open the floodgates of emotion that we've all tried to suppress.

Near the end of lunch, someone comes in shouting that they've landed, and we all rush out to see the Helicopter. Everybody is shoved aside as they get those who were taken get rushed into the hospital. No one gets a look at the people. Nobody will until the doctors have had their say.

I picture Finnick waiting outside the hospital wing, desperate to see the woman he loves. I squeeze Peeta a little tighter. We shuffle back inside as a pod of people. I want to find Finnick, but the cameramen come swooping in and grab me like a hawk grabs a mouse. I do my job, even though I'm desperate to get off of the camera.

Finally, at last, it's over.

I grab Peeta's hand and drag him to the hospital wing. We can see Finnick in a chair, head hung in a defeated manner. I'm about to talk to him when I hear it.

"Finnick!"

His head snaps up and he bolts forward. Annie comes rushing toward him in nothing but a white sheet. They embrace and he spins her around in his arms before kissing her.

When I glance up at Peeta, grinning broadly, he gives me a kiss and looks at me with gladdened eyes. I squeeze Peeta's hand and we share another kiss before walking to our room.


	10. Proposal

**Author's Note: Hi guys! I hope you all are enjoying the story so far! This chapter as well as the next are going to have a lot of Finnick and Annie in them, but rest assured the main plot will not be lost. Enjoy!**

Finnick Odair has become an entirely different person since Annie's return. The Capitol heartthrob act was now a plastic veneer that was as easy to see through as cellophane. He never lets go of her hand. Annie, for her part, isn't mad like they say. Perhaps a little odd, but not crazy. She looks like she's floating on a cloud all the time, and you can see her love for Finnick in her eyes.

It's a few days after her return that Finnick, letting Annie's hand go for a minute, pulls Peeta aside in the mess hall. They speak in hushed tones, and I want to know what they're talking about, but I figure I can ask Peeta later. For right now, I just want to enjoy my food.

I don't notice when Finnick returns, but my senses- highly alert thanks to my pregnancy, pick up Peeta coming up behind me. He plants a kiss on my head and then sits beside me, eating his meal. The brown lump of meat in what looked like dirty water sits in my bowl. I poke at it with my fork, wondering if sludge would pop out when I did. Nothing happened. Tentatively, I take a bite. It's horrible and awful, but it's meat, and I can't afford not to eat.

Soon, Dinner is done, and Peeta holds my hand as we walk to our compartment. Evenings were, for the most part, our own. As soon as the door shuts I ask it.

"What did Finnick want?"

"He just wanted to ask me something."

"Oh? What?" Peeta shakes his head.

"Sorry, Katniss. I'm sworn to secrecy. When it's over I'll tell you everything. I promise."

I let out an angry huff. I hate being kept out of the loop.

Peeta leaves my side for the first time that Friday, and I know that he has to be doing whatever Finnick asked. My desire to know what my husband is keeping from me overrides my better judgement, and I follow him from a long distance. He turns to go into the kitchen, and for a moment I wonder if Finnick had asked him to bake something, but then I see him get out meat and spices and I know he's cooking something. Something shiny gleams by the corner of my eye, and I look over to see a table in the mess hall, covered with a white tablecloth and the best plates and silverware District thirteen has to offer. There are even two candles on fake gold candlesticks.

Whatever Finnick's planning, it's big.

I am all the way down the hall, and Finnick and Annie don't notice me when they go into the mess hall. I find the two small windows in the door and I stand on my tiptoes to see.

Soup is already on the table, and I wonder what the occasion is, when Peeta emerges with the best equivalent to steak that the district can give. I watch like a wallflower and see dessert being served. I have no idea what it is, but I bet it's delicious.

Suddenly, Finnick stops eating and looks deeply into Annie's eyes. Gazes locked, he stands up, comes around to her side of the table, and gets down on one knee, pulling a box from inside of his suit jacket. He flips it open, and there it is- a gorgeous ring. Of course Annie accepts and he slips the ring onto her finger before gingerly cupping her face in his hands and sharing perhaps the sweetest and most pure kiss I have ever had the honor of witnessing. My hand automatically drops to my belly, which is sticking out just a bit now, and I caress it unconsciously. I finally realize how long I've been snooping, and I retreat back to my room.

It's a good twenty minutes before Peeta comes back to me. I'm laying on our bed, stroking my stomach. I grin when I see him.

"Hey there, handsome." He flashes me a white, toothy grin.

"Hey." Hey says. He kicks off his shoes and moves to lay next to me. We're quiet as he puts a hand on my stomach. The silence stretches minutes and I wonder if it will ever be broken. He kisses my cheek.

"Did I ever tell you how much I love you?"

"Hmmm... No, I don't think you have today."

"Well I do. I love my smart, sexy, wonderful wife... Even when she sticks her nose into my business."

I blush at that. "How did you know?"

"You don't think I can hear your footsteps from down the hall? I know it's you by the way you walk."

Oh.

For a minute I'm too embarrassed to say anything.

"You got to see it firsthand. The proposal, I mean."

"I did. It reminded me of ours." He says quietly. Ah yes, how could I ever forget?

It was winter, and the snow was falling gently, blanketing the ground in white. Peeta and I had gone for a walk together. It was still during the work day, so we had a good portion of the town to ourselves. As we walked we spoke quietly to each other and eventually we circle back around to Peeta's house. A warm fire greets us and we take time to thaw before we dig in to a luxurious spread of Capitol food that I can only assume Peeta bought exclusively for this date. We had the lamb stew I loved so much, and Peeta baked us some bread, and a hand-frosted cake for dessert.

When he'd first put the cake on the table, I had been too wrapped up in eating my lamb stew to notice. But then I saw it- he'd frosted Katniss flowers on the sides of the cake. Slowly, I stood up and looked at the top of the cake. In a heart of frosted roses, written in green icing were the words "Katniss, will you Marry me?" I was stunned. When I turned around he was on one knee. My breath caught in my throat and my hand unconsciously flew to my chest in shock. My left hand was at my side. He looked up at me with more love than I'd ever seen.

"Katniss, from the first time I heard you sing I fell in love with you. I fell in love with your green eyes, your smile, and your beautiful chestnut hair. But in the first hunger games I got the chance to know you in a way I never would have been able to on my own. You saved my life in more ways than one. If you marry me, I promise to love you more than anyone else ever could. I promise to never let you face a nightmare alone. I promise to do everything I can to show you how much I care about you. Katniss Everdeen, will you Marry me and do me the honor of becoming my wife?"

My heart is racing in my chest, and a rush of blood makes my ears pound. I keep hearing "will you marry me?" Playing over and over again in my head like a broken record. It takes my mind a second to process what he's said, and when I finally understand all that comes out is a tiny whisper.

"Yes."


	11. Weddings

**"Make of our hands one hand,  
Make of our hearts one heart,  
Make of our vows one last vow:  
Only death will part us now...**

Now it begins, now we start  
One hand, one heart;  
Even death won't part us now."

-"One Hand One Heart" from the musical West Side Story

District 13 was abuzz with wedding planning. It was such an exciting prospect for everyone- a blaze of color in their otherwise grey lives. To an extent, every citizen was involved, and it helped to make it special. For our part, Peeta and I were responsible for the clothing. Peeta loaned Finnick a suit, and they tailored it to fit. I loaned Annie a green dress I wore in 5. Everybody was gathering supplies, and in a matter of days the wedding was set.

the wedding is a smash hit. The three hundred lucky guests culled from 13 and the many refugees wear their everyday clothes, the decorations are made from autumn foliage, the music is provided by a choir of children accompanied by the lone fiddler who made it out of 12 with his instrument. So it's simple, frugal by the Capitol's standards. It doesn't matter because nothing can compete with the beauty of the couple. Who can look past the radiant faces of two people for whom this day was once a virtual impossibility? Dalton, the cattle guy from 10, conducts the ceremony, since it's similar to the one used in his district. But there are unique touches of District 4. A net woven from long grass that covers the couple during their vows, the touching of each other's lips with salt water, and the ancient wedding song, which likens marriage to a sea voyage.

No, I don't have to pretend to be happy for them.

After the kiss that seals the union, the cheers, and a toast with apple cider, the fiddler strikes up a tune that turns every head from 12. We may have been the smallest, poorest district in Panem, but we know how to dance. Nothing has been officially scheduled at this point, but Plutarch, who's calling the propo from the control room, must have his fingers crossed. Sure enough, Greasy Sae grabs Gale by the hand and pulls him into the center of the floor and faces off with him. People pour in to join them, forming two long lines. And the dancing begins.

Peeta and I take each other's hands and we dance together. For this occasion I have put on a looser fitting dress. The ones Cinna so carefully crafted that fit me like a glove are too tight on my ever-growing belly. Peeta puts his hands on my waist, occasionally letting them drift to my stomach. I'm certain that he's subconsciously trying to protect our baby, and I find it so sweet and endearing. I kiss him quickly, grinning like an idiot. Beside us, my Mother and Prim are spinning around, and I break from my dance with Peeta to dance with my little sister. Prim looks up at me with eyes that are bright. I can see the excitement on her face over my pregnancy, but I also see that she's become so grown up. It tears at my heart strings and I can't help but press her to me in a hug. I let her go, and she spins off to dance with someone else.

As Peeta reclaims his hold on me, I notice a face in the crowd that I haven't seen since the arena.

Johanna Mason.

I tap Peeta's shoulder and point to her. Holding hands, we approach her. I can see her struggle to find something to say, so I decide to say something first.

"Hey." It's so quiet part of me thinks she didn't hear me. A sarcastic smile plays on her lips.

"That's all you've got? After being tortured by the Capitol for your sake all you've got is 'Hey'?" I try not to let the comment find purchase inside me, but it does.

"I didn't know how to start. But I wanted to thank you for everything you've done for me since the arena. I will never be able to repay that debt." My voice is strong and confident by the end of the small speech. Johanna gives me this unreadable look, as if she's trying to figure me out, but eventually she concedes and gives me a wan smile.

"It'll be worth it to watch Snow go down." I nod in agreement. Peeta mutters a response I can't quite understand, and then takes me back to the dance floor. I lean into him as we dance, laying my head on his shoulder.

It's later that night when the happiness I felt the entire day is lessened. Peeta and I have climbed into bed for the evening, when Peeta looks at me. Instantly I know something's amiss.

"What is it?" I ask. Peeta is silent for a brief period, choosing his words carefully no doubt. He says it slowly.

"I want to be a soldier." The words seem pulled out of him.

My mind is whirring as I try and process this new information.

"Why?" Is all I can come up with.

"Because, my beautiful wife is the Mockingjay, doing so much to further the cause of the rebels and up until now I've sat on the sidelines, just watching it all happen. I need to feel like I'm contributing something, and I have to do it for myself. This will be my last chance to do anything before the baby is born."

"And you want my blessing." It's a statement of fact, not a question as I would like it to be.

"I need your blessing, but if you say no I won't go."

I stop myself completely at that. Could I deny him this chance at self-fulfillment? I could, but it would be a selfish act. More uncertain than ever, I take his hand.

"Promise me you won't die." He gives me a classic Peeta smile, but somehow it looked wrong.

"I promise."

I can only pray that it isn't a lie.


	12. Strong

**Author's note: this chapter is longer than most simply because I wanted to give you all a break from dramatic cliffhangers. That being said, I hope you all enjoy this chapter as much as I enjoyed writing it!**

For the next few weeks I am watching Peeta's life from a distance. We only get the chance to be together at meals and at night when we go to bed. However, Peeta's training exhausts him so much that he falls asleep before we can really talk. Consequently, I feel more and more isolated from him, which is a first for us. As I enter my fourth month of pregnancy, I worry over wether Peeta will ever come back to me.

That night, instead of being asleep, Peeta is awake and waiting for me. It makes me hold my breath.

He looks at me with eyes like prisms.

"Tomorrow they're going to district eight to save the revolutionaries, and I'm going with them."

My heart sinks into my stomach, and it knots itself up. The baby flutters inside me, sensing my stress level. I should have seen this coming, but I'm still terrified. I force a smile onto my face. All he's ever wanted is to help people, and I could never deny him that opportunity.

"Okay." It's all I can say.

He wraps his arms around me, supporting me in his way.

All night I am restless. Sleep evades me, but that's no surprise. My thoughts are racing and my instincts are in overdrive. All too soon dawn encroaches on District thirteen. Peeta's arms are removed from me. We hold hands walking to breakfast, and eat in tense silence. I'm so scared to let Peeta go. I want to say something, but I don't know what to say.

We walk to the helicopter in silence. The blades are spinning, and it blows my hair back gently. Peeta turns to face me, and I can feel tears gathering in my eyes.

"Promise me you'll come back to me." I whisper.

"I swear." He and I share a passionate kiss, and he steps onto the helicopter. "I'll be home in time for dinner."

The doors close, and my husband is lifted into the air, and then he is flown away.

From that moment on, I walk around district thirteen in a daze. Until my husband was home safe I knew this was how I would be. Thankfully, the cameramen have me shooting a propo, so I don't have all day to brood over Peeta. The busywork is a life saver.

My pregnancy prevents me from excessive exercise, so I shoot the Propo in parts. I'm supposed to be there with everyone else in district eight, but obviously I can't risk it with my current condition, so this is the best I can do.

Lunch rolls around but I don't partake in it. My stomach hasn't unknotted itself since Peeta told me where he was going. It's a maddening waiting game. The seconds feel like hours, and life has been switched from eighty miles per hour to one. Life goes on around me, but it seems impossible.

Finally, the hour has come. My anxiety skyrockets and I feel like an invisible weight is pressing on my chest. I try to calm down for the sake of the baby, but it's futile. The minutes pass by as slowly as time will allow. Before I know it, they're calling for dinner.

"I'll be back in time for dinner."

_Stop it_, I think. _A watched pot doesn't boil_. I go to the cafeteria and take a bowl of broth. I don't dare eat something solid- I know it would come right back up. I sit with Finnick, Annie, and Beetee, all of whom are speaking quietly to one another. I listen to their conversation, not interested enough to join it.

Suddenly the doors burst open.

"Is there a Mrs. Mellark here?"

I draw in a sharp, painful breath before I stand.

"I am she." I walk over to the man.

"Mrs. Mellark, my name is Doctor Adam Campbell and I work in the hospital wing. I'm sorry to tell you that while in district eight there was a firebombing and your husband is severely injured."

The words hit me like a slap in the face, and I physically flinch as they make impact. On some level I knew something would happen, but never in my wildest dreams did I expect it to be something this bad.

"He's alive?" I whisper. The doctor nods, but I need to hear him say it.

"Yes, he is. I will take you to his room. Your friend Haymitch is in there with him now. We wanted someone in there until you could be found. He told me where I might find you, and he was proven correct." I nod. I'll have to thank Haymitch later.

We walk down a corridor and one more hall before reaching his room. The door is open only slightly. The Doctor opens the door for me.

Despite all the mental preparation I've tried to give myself, nothing prepares me for the sight before me.

Peeta's face is bruised and swollen. One arm is in a plaster cast, as is one leg. His head is heavily bandaged, and the only skin visible is his left hand, which has a few burns on it.

"He is very strong." The doctor remarks.

"Yes, he is."

"He suffered some head trauma after the bomb detonated, and we assume he has sustained a concussion, and may have some bleeding in the brain. The swelling in his face is due to the fall. He broke his arm and leg on impact, and has severe burns over his body, but they mainly stayed on his arms and legs. We do not know what the head trauma has affected, but we will know if he wakes up."

If. Those two letters were like a death sentence.

"Thank you." Is all I can manage. The doctor nods, then ushers Haymitch out so that I may have some time with my husband.

I pull a chair up to his bedside, and take his hand into mine. The action that, between us, seemed old as time was now marred with the burns on Peeta's hands. I take a breath to try and steady myself.

"You told me you'd be back home in time for dinner, but even though you are you've come back to me so hurt. Next time you promise me something, I want you to be there, walking and talking when you fulfill it." I look at him, unsure of what to say. "Can you hear me, Peeta? I know somewhere inside you you can hear me. Please wake up, honey. Squeeze my hand. You can do it." I pause again, trying so hard not to cry. I set his hand on my growing stomach. "Our baby misses you. Our baby still needs a Daddy. You can't give up on us. You've got a lot of living to do. Come on, Peeta. You survived two hunger games, you can survive anything. I know the man I married can do anything. I know you can wake up so that the next time you do, it will be back in our bed next to me."

I've run out of words, and I'm terrified of breaking down. Mercifully, Finnick and Annie knock at the door.

"How is he?" Finnick asks, quietly.

"He's alive." I say. Finnick nods.

"How are you doing, Katniss?" The question, surprisingly, comes from Annie, who is looking at me with her sea green eyes that stare into my soul. It's strange enough that the question doesn't break me.

"I'm... Here." I say in a somber tone.

They nod in sync.

"Would you like to visit with him for a little while? I have something I need to take care of."

"Sure." Finnick says immediately. I smile at them before I start walking from the room normally, and then when I'm far enough away I run to the compartment Peeta and I share. As soon as I shut the door the expected breakdown comes and I'm screaming and crying into my pillow. My crying is ugly and disgusting- spit hangs out of my mouth as I sob, and snot is running from my nose. I scream until I can no more, and cry until I'm shaking too hard to do it anymore. I bolt to the bathroom and throw up shortly after. In the bathroom, I pull myself up by the sink and start pulling myself together again. My entire body is shaking as if I were an old woman who'd never seen calcium. I start by slowing my breathing until it's back to normal. Then, I wash my face off in the sink. I know eyes are red and puffed from crying, and I can imagine how terrible I look. I go on my bed and lay down, getting ready to leave. I put my face into Peeta's pillow, breathing in the scent that has become home to me. Just before I go I get underneath the bed and pull out a brown paper bag.

After ten minutes I leave the compartment and head back to my husband.

When I get there, Finnick and Annie are there along with Haymitch. After a short conversation Finnick and Annie leave, and I am left with Haymitch. I walk over to him and hand him the brown paper bag.

"Thank you." I say. He opens the bag and I can see his shock and delight as a bottle of bourbon lays inside. He gives me a half smile, and we sit there for a while in silence.

After Haymitch leaves I am the only one left. I fall asleep holding Peeta's hand. When I wake, there is sunlight streaming through the window. I kiss Peeta's cheek and wish him good morning. Today I'm surprisingly chipper considering the situation. Maybe it's the sunlight, or maybe it's just that I'm tired of being sad, but something good is going to happen. I feel it in my bones. The first person who visits me this morning is my Mother. It's a pleasant surprise, if not a necessary one. She tells me that Peeta's going to be fine. Maybe it's because she's not only my Mother but a healer, the sentiment is comforting. Prim comes not long after and I give her a long hug.

It's around lunch time when I realize that the baby's kicking hard. I take Peeta's hand and put it on my stomach.

It's then that I feel it- the slight move of his hand. My hope shoots through the roof.

"Peeta?" I ask.

Slowly, he opens his eyes.

"Peeta!" I say in relief. Slowly, he looks at me.

"Can you hear me? Shut your eyes if you can hear me."

He does so.

"Do you know who I am?"

He opens his mouth, and the sound comes out cracked.

"Mine." His fingers move to my wedding ring, and it tells me he knows exactly who I am. I burst into tears.

"Yes, I'm yours. I always will be."


	13. Patience

The hours following Peeta's consciousness are filled with a battalion of tests and X-rays. I hold his hand through all of it. Just like Finnick and Annie I am terrified of letting go of Peeta's hand.

The tests reveal minimal damage. The worst of it will be a massive headache. The smaller damage comes with Peeta's thought process. There's a word he can't find or an idea he can't express the way he wants to. He gets frustrated with himself so easily now. I have to show extreme patience with him, which tries my patience in itself. Every day he gets a little bit closer to being completely himself again. For the longest time Peeta has taken care of me, and it feels so strange to be caring for him.

After three days in the hospital wing, Peeta is discharged and is finally able to come to bed with me.

While walking to our compartment, he leans on me, trying to walk straighter, but failing. Peeta lets out a grunt. I have listened to Peeta grunt every time he tries something, and I've learned how to tell the difference between them. This one is a grunt of frustration. I can practically hear him screaming over how much he wants to walk normally again.

I sit him on the edge of our bed, and squat in front of him as best as I can. His head hangs down in disappointment. I take his face in my hands and make him look at me. His eyes are uncharacteristically sad with disappointment.

"You're doing the best you can. You'll get better, but it will take time to heal. You have to be patient with yourself." I say. Peeta gives me a sad smile that quickly turns into a frown.

"My... Fault." He says. Both words come out as if he's straining himself saying them. I immediately catch his meaning.

"Peeta, look at me." He does. "Sweetheart, none of what happened is your fault. You could never have known what would happen when you left that morning- none of us could. You just got caught in a horrible situation, and I'm sorry you did, but there's nothing you can do to change that now."

My words seem to break through to him, and he smiles, squeezing my hands. I lean my face up and kiss him. He smiles brightly and I can understand everything he wants to communicate with me through his vibrant and expressive eyes.

Peeta reaches out and puts his hands on my stomach. He sometimes does this when he's frustrated with himself. It's as if having a connection to the baby centers him when he's too agitated to be patient with himself. I can't help smiling when he does this. I can feel the connectedness between the three of us as a family.

Peeta lays down on the bed, and I quickly lie beside him. He moves me so that my head is on his chest. The sound of his heart steadies me, and eventually the sound that gives me strength to go on every day lulls me to sleep.

I can feel Peeta's arms around me, and I thank God that my husband is home.


	14. Outside

**Author's Note: I apologize to you all for the long wait, but between a death in the family and my finals being tomorrow and Monday, I haven't had much time to write. I'm doing the best I can to finish up this story, but please be patient with me. I'll do the best I can to make you all proud. Thank you all for being so patient. I really appreciate it. Part of this chapter is directly from the book.**

Each day Peeta gets a little bit stronger, but getting better is an uphill battle, and on occasion we lost. Even after his leg heals, he'll have a pretty nasty limp. Doctor Campbell assures me that he'll make a complete recovery. My stomach is now prominent, and my hands often cradle it unconsciously now, as if I can protect it from the dangers of the outside world. I've found many maternity dresses and shirts that have worked their way into my closet. Peeta is always close to me, scared to leave my side. He treats me as if I'm going to have the baby any second. I don't understand why exactly, but somehow it was incredibly reassuring.

Peeta slings his arm around me this spring morning, and I put my arm under his armpit as I try and prop him up.

Together, we make our way to the mess hall. I sit Peeta down at our usual table before getting our breakfast. Every time Peeta stands up I have this horrible fear that he won't be up for more than a second before falling. The irony of it is that he wants to do the same things for me because of my pregnancy. Being as stubborn as I am, I won't let him do anything until his leg gets better. He'll pull the same thing when I'm near the end of my pregnancy, but until then he's not doing anything or going anywhere unless I know about it. Maybe I'm being a little overprotective, but after all the crap he's put me through I think I deserve that much.

I take Peeta his bowl of what I assume is oatmeal, and sit beside him. I want to hold his hand, but both are being used- one for eating, and the other is in a cast. I kiss his cheek before I begin eating myself. Peeta looks at me with a smile before eating. Our table is overtly silent. Peeta and I continually exchange glances throughout our meal, and it's an entire conversation without any words needed. With the massive headaches Peeta has been getting, he hates noise, and has trouble speaking at times. I can always tell when he's having problems with that. His face becomes twisted and working, and actually turns a light shade of red as he tries to find or express a word that has slipped away from him. When he finally latches onto it, his teeth clench as he works to finally get it out. The word comes out in parts the first time, and he has to say it a few times before it comes out correctly.

Peeta's psychologist spoke with me, and told me that it's vital that I be extremely patient with him. He gets so frustrated with himself, and it's physically painful to watch.

I hold his hand as he goes through physical therapy, getting stronger with time and work. As the weeks go on, Peeta's improvement skyrockets. As my due date becomes closer, I can see Peeta working harder and harder to get better. By the time I am six and a half months along, Peeta is back in near perfect health.

Today is the day that a team is being dispatched to try and kill Snow. The morning begins like any other. Finnick, of course is on the team. I can recall perfectly how he kissed Annie that morning, revealing to us that Annie is expecting. Everyone at the table is overjoyed for them, especially me. After Finnick leaves for deployment, I squeeze Annie's hand and tell her she'll be a wonderful mother. She gives me a grateful look and we begin to chat about pregnancy, names, and other unimportant things. The next day Peeta and I were scheduled to go to the Capitol for one last Propo. As we spend what is likely our last day of rebellion in District 13, the news comes back that evening that Finnick has passed away. The news takes my breath away, as well as Peeta's. All I can think about now is poor Annie. I can't imagine what she must be feeling. I hear an agonized scream, and I'm certain it's Annie. I want to go and comfort her, but before I know it Peeta is dragging me to bed. I know sleep will not come to me tonight. If it does, it will only be nightmares.

We board the train that morning to film the last Propo. It is a somber goodbye for me as Peeta and I leave for the last shoot. Peeta is quiet, only moving to steal glances at me and to place a hand on my growing stomach. As we arrive in the Capitol, I find myself in a state of unrest. Something is going to happen today, something big. We start shooting and I contort my face into whatever expression they ask of me. Just as everything is winding down, Commander Boggs is killed. It's the final straw for me. Finnick and some of the other rebels had already paved the way by going after Snow, and I know just what I have to do. I grab Peeta's hand, and yank him toward President Snow's mansion. It is surrounded by Capitol children, and it makes me nauseous. Peeta squeezes my hand as we go to the mansion.

Suddenly, I'm watching everything from outside of my body.

A hovercraft marked with the Capitol's seal materializes directly over the barricaded children. Scores of silver parachutes rain down on them. Even in this chaos, the children know what silver parachutes contain. Food. Medicine. Gifts. They eagerly scoop them up, frozen fingers struggling with the strings. The hovercraft vanishes, five seconds pass, and then about twenty parachutes simultaneously explode.

A wail rises from the crowd. The snow's red and littered with undersized body parts. Many of the children die immediately, but others lie in agony on the ground. Some stagger around mutely, staring at the remaining silver parachutes in their hands, as if they still might have something precious inside. I can tell the Peacekeepers didn't know this was coming by the way they are yanking away the barricades, making a path to the children. Another flock of white uniforms sweeps into the opening. But these aren't Peacekeepers. They're medics. Rebel medics. I'd know the uniforms anywhere. They swarm in among the children, wielding medical kits.

First I get a glimpse of the blond braid down her back. Then, as she yanks off her coat to cover a wailing child, I notice the duck tail formed by her untucked shirt. I have the same reaction I did the day Effie Trinket called her name at the reaping. At least, I must go limp, because I find myself at the base of the flagpole, unable to account for the last few seconds. Then I am pushing through the crowd, just as I did before. Trying to shout her name above the roar. I'm almost there, almost to the barricade, when I think she hears me. Because for just a moment, she catches sight of me, her lips form my name.

And that's when the rest of the parachutes go off.


	15. From The Inside Out

**Author's Note: My sincerest apologies for the wait, but now that finals are over, I can dedicate more time to this story. I hope you all can forgive me! Most of this chapter is from the book.**

I'm screaming on the inside but I can't let it out. I lay in the hospital, severely burned from the bombing. My sister, my beloved little sister is dead. The baby inside me is fine, but that's the only good news there is. Peeta sits vigilantly at my bedside, although he was burned very badly himself. He pushes the pain aside as much he can, but sometimes needs an IV of morphling for the pain. He applies burn cream on me more than he does himself. I haven't spoken since the day Prim died. I know it's worrying Peeta, but I just can't do it yet. Today, I am propped up by pillows as Peeta sits on the bed with his arms wrapped around me. He plants kisses on my head and whispers things into my ear, trying to make me feel a little better. He never once pressured me to say anything or talk to him. He just holds me whenever I start to cry or get angry. My mother has come in a few times, looking at me with that same blank stare she had when my father died. She has shed many more tears than I have. I've been numb for the vast majority of the time. Haymitch has been scarcely seen, and for that I'm extremely grateful. I've been lashing out at everyone, and I'd hate to lash out at him too. Although, practically speaking, he's probably the only one who wouldn't care.

Peeta squeezes my hand tightly, pulling me away from my musings. I think I'm more afraid to let go of him than he is to let go of me. He stares down at me with so much love it chokes me up. I give him a quick kiss, for it's all the movement my body can make.

My sense of time is scattered, and I'm baffled when Peeta picks me up and puts me in a wheelchair. He wheels me to the hospital wing, and then I remember: I have a doctor's appointment today. My head rolls to one side, and I know my expression is vacant and my eyes are lifeless. I can sense Peeta's sadness. He wheels me into the doctor's office, where Doctor Campbell greets me. I look up at him, unable to do much else. Peeta immediately launches into an in-depth description of how I've been feeling lately. I'm so grateful that he can equivocate everything I've been through. I don't have enough energy left to do it. The doctor looks at me, and begins to tell me about what to expect during this month of my pregnancy. I know Peeta is listening for me, so I ignore it in favor of zoning out. Peeta pushes me back to my room, and I find a restless sleep waiting for me that night.

The next day, Peeta helps me dress and shakes a little vigor into me.

Today, I meet with Snow.

I go in, smelling the roses and blood smell that only belongs to the President.

He sits at his desk and looks at me.

"There are so many things we should discuss, but I have a feeling your visit will be brief. So, first things first." He begins to cough, and when he removes the handkerchief from his mouth, it's redder. "I wanted to tell you how very sorry I am about your sister."

Even in my deadened condition, this sends a stab of pain through me. Reminding me that there are no limits to his cruelty. And how he will go to his grave trying to destroy me.

"So wasteful, so unnecessary. Anyone could see the game was over by that point. In fact, I was just about to issue an official surrender when they released those parachutes." His eyes are glued on me, unblinking, so as not to miss a second of my reaction. But what he's said makes no sense. When they released the parachutes?

"Well, you really didn't think I gave the order, did you? Forget the obvious fact that if I'd had a working hovercraft at my disposal, I'd have been using it to make an escape. But that aside, what purpose could it have served? We both know I'm not above killing children, but I'm not wasteful. I take life for very specific reasons. And there was no reason for me to destroy a pen full of Capitol children. None at all."

I wonder if the next fit of coughing is staged so that I can have time to absorb his words. He's lying. Of course, he's lying. But there's something struggling to free itself from the lie as well.

"However, I must concede it was a masterful move on Coin's part. The idea that I was bombing our own helpless children instantly snapped whatever frail allegiance my people still felt to me. There was no real resistance after that. Did you know it aired live? You can see Plutarch's hand there. And in the parachutes. Well, it's that sort of thinking that you look for in a Head Gamemaker, isn't it?" Snow dabs the corners of his mouth. "I'm sure he wasn't gunning for your sister, but these things happen."

I'm not with Snow now. I'm in Special Weaponry back in 13 with Gale and Beetee. Looking at the designs based on Gale's traps. That played on human sympathies. The first bomb killed the victims.

"My failure," says Snow, "was being so slow to grasp Coin's plan. To let the Capitol and districts destroy one another, and then step in to take power with Thirteen barely scratched. Make no mistake, she was intending to take my place right from the beginning. I shouldn't be surprised. After all, it was Thirteen that started the rebellion that led to the Dark Days, and then abandoned the rest of the districts when the tide turned against it. But I wasn't watching Coin. I was watching you, Mockingjay. And you were watching me. I'm afraid we have both been played for fools."

I refuse for this to be true. Some things even I can't survive. I utter my first words since my sister's death. "I don't believe you."

Snow shakes his head in mock disappointment.

"Oh, my dear Miss Everdeen. I thought we had agreed not to lie to each other."


	16. One Shot

**Author's Note: Most of this chapter is from the book, with the exception of the first, third, and final three segments.**

The next day comes with blinding sunlight. Peeta was so relieved once he'd found out that I'd spoken. He kept telling me how proud he was that I'd found my voice again. My stomach, now it's own continent, has made it nearly impossible for me to move. Yet, here I sit in President Coin's office with the rest of the victorious tributes.

"I've asked you here to settle a debate. Today we will execute Snow. In the previous weeks, hundreds of his accomplices in the oppression of Panem have been tried and now await their own deaths. However, the suffering in the districts has been so extreme that these measures appear insufficient to the victims. In fact, many are calling for a complete annihilation of those who held Capitol citizenship. However, in the interest of maintaining a sustainable population, we cannot afford this. So, an alternative has been placed on the table. Since my colleagues and I can come to no consensus, it has been agreed that we will let the victors decide. A majority of four will approve the plan. No one may abstain from the vote," says Coin. "What has been proposed is that in lieu of eliminating the entire Capitol population, we have a final, symbolic Hunger Games, using the children directly related to those who held the most power."

"_What_?" All of us are working through what Coin has said. Such a thing would have been unthinkable two years ago, and yet here the proposition stands. My hands are still on the table. The baby is doing somersaults in my belly, feeling my angst and responding for me.

"Are you joking?" asks Peeta.

"No. I should also tell you that if we do hold the Games, it will be known it was done with your approval, although the individual breakdown of your votes will be kept secret for your own security," Coin tells us.

"Was this Plutarch's idea?" asks Haymitch.

"It was mine," says Coin. "It seemed to balance the need for vengeance with the least loss of life. You may cast your votes."

"No!" bursts out Peeta. "I vote no, of course! We can't have another Hunger Games!"

"Why not?" Johanna retorts. "It seems very fair to me. Snow even has a granddaughter. I vote yes."

"So do I," says Enobaria, almost indifferently. "Let them have a taste of their own medicine."

"This is why we rebelled! Remember?" Peeta looks at the rest of us. "Annie?"

"I vote no with Peeta," she says. "So would Finnick if he were here."

"But he isn't, because Snow's mutts killed him," Johanna reminds her.

"No," says Beetee. "It would set a bad precedent. We have to stop viewing one another as enemies. At this point, unity is essential for our survival. No."

"We're down to Katniss and Haymitch," says Coin.

Was it like this then? Seventy-five years or so ago? Did a group of people sit around and cast their votes on initiating the Hunger Games? Was there dissent? Did someone make a case for mercy that was beaten down by the calls for the deaths of the districts' children? The scent of Snow's rose curls up into my nose, down into my throat, squeezing it tight with despair. All those people I loved, dead, and we are discussing the next Hunger Games in an attempt to avoid wasting life. Nothing has changed. Nothing will ever change now.

I weigh my options carefully, think everything through. Keeping my eyes on the rose, I say,

"I vote yes...for Prim."

"Haymitch, it's up to you," says Coin.

A furious Peeta hammers Haymitch with the atrocity he could become party to, but I can feel Haymitch watching me. This is the moment, then. When we find out exactly just how alike we are, and how much he truly understands me.

"I'm with the Mockingjay," he says.

"Excellent. That carries the vote," says Coin. "Now we really must take our places for the execution."

I take my place, holding my bow and arrow in my hands as I look down from the balcony. Peeta places his hands on my shoulders, steadying me in my time of stress.

Before big moments in our lives, we are reminded of everything that has led us to them. In flashes I see my volunteering for Prim, my time in the arena, my marriage to Peeta, my second time in the games, the loss of my baby, Peeta's time in the hospital wing, and the loss of my sister. Everything I am and everything I stand for is on the line. I think of my family and friends, and remind myself of the baby depending on me in my stomach. As I take a breath in, I take my aim. For a beat, no one breathes. As I breathe out, I shoot.

I let my arrow fly and it finds it's target- right in President Coin's heart.


	17. Aftermath

**Author's Note: EIGHTY FOLLOWS! HOLY COW! I'm so flattered you guys. Thank you all for being my motivation to make this story as great as it can be. I might not post tomorrow (got a graduation to attend out of town) but if I don't, then I'll definitely post on Friday. With that in mind, I hope you all enjoy this chapter!**

In the moments that follow the shot, I can hear Snow's laughter. It echoes far above the cries of the crowd below me. For a second, I feel a stab of anxiety. I feel Peeta's hands tighten on my shoulders as I tense up. I drop my bow and instead put my hands under my stomach, trying to support it. I pretend it's very heavy. My baby kicks inside me, and it brings me a little bit of relief. Peeta takes my hand and pulls on it slightly, silently asking to leave. I walk beside him in a dazed state, unsure of reality. Peeta takes me back to thirteen, to our familiar compartment and has me lay in bed. He promises me he'll take care of everything, kisses me, and goes out to take on the public that I have so recently spurned with my choice of target. When Peeta leaves I waddle my way into the bathroom and throw up. Wether it's because of my pregnancy or because of anxiety I'll never know. I feel sticky all over as I retch, my stomach curling and twisting while I do. My hands are sweaty and slippery as I try in vein to hold onto the bowl. When I do pull away, I find that I'm shaking all over. I decide to take a shower, hoping to relax a little.

The warm water rolls across my skin in beads, and I finally unclench my fists. I sit in the tiny shower, caressing my stomach. Besides Peeta, this baby is the only thing I know I love.

When I decide to get out, I put on a maternity top and loose-fitting pants. The mirror in the bathroom is fogged up, but I can see that somehow my complexion has gotten even lighter. put my hair into a ponytail and go back to laying down on the bed.

Peeta comes back a half an hour after that, climbing up onto the bed and pulling my head onto his chest. He kisses and nuzzles me softly, and I smile despite myself. He holds me quietly for a few minutes. When he finally speaks, there's a stilted quality in it.

"We're going back to twelve." He says. I look up at him in surprise.

"Really?" He nods.

"I'll be going down there every day to prepare our house for the baby." This makes the baby do flips in my stomach.

"I'm not sure if I'm comfortable with that..." My fingers trace my stomach in discomfort.

"Don't worry, I'll be fine." Just because he says it doesn't mean I believe him.

I spend the next few days in a bubble, with Peeta, Haymitch, and my mother as my only connections to the outside World. My pregnancy has already exhausted me beyond reason, and I can't do much else besides lay there.

The first time Haymitch came to see me was surprising.

He knocked on the door to the compartment, and I was surprised to see him in the doorway.

"Hey." I say, quietly. Haymitch pulls a chair up to my bedside, and sets his bottle of gin on the table.

Haymitch doesn't say anything until he takes a drink.

"So, I hear the Mockingjay has finally found her voice again." He sips at his bottle of gin.

"You've heard right." I said.

"Did you hear that Snow's dead?" He looks me straight in the eye, obviously curious to my reaction.

I stiffen with shock. "What?"

"He was trampled to death."

I scan my emotions, trying to latch on to some sort of feeling. I can only identify relief.

"He got what was coming to him." I say, quietly.

"Damn right." Haymitch huffs. I can identify so closely with that. I smile, albeit sarcastically. Haymitch looks at me with this expression that I can't identify. I run the gamut of emotions that it could be, and finally settle on one: Pride. My hand unconsciously grazes over my stomach. He looks at it.

"Do you think you're ready?" It's a quiet question.

I think about that for a moment. Am I ready for parenthood? I suppose I should have asked myself this question long ago. With everything I've been through lately I haven't had the time to think about this. Am I ready to be responsible for another human life? I think of all the time I've spent in the arena and what the human lives there have meant. The life Peeta and I have created will mean so much more to us because of what we've been through. Quietly, I respond.

"I don't think anyone is ready. I think I'm never going to be a stereotypical good parent. I'll love my child to the best of my ability. That's the best anyone can do."

Haymitch looks at me with a raised eyebrow. I think he's impressed. He raises his bottle of gin to me in a "cheers" motion. We make obligatory small talk until Peeta returns to me. Haymitch gives me a goodbye nod of the head as Peeta comes to me bearing my dinner. He lays next to me and runs his fingers through my hair as I eat.

"I've been working on the baby's room." He tells me. "It should be done in two weeks." I smile at him.

"I'm excited to see it." I say. Peeta looks at me with shimmering eyes.

"We can move back home whenever you're ready."

I look up at Peeta. I miss my home more than he could know.

"How about tomorrow?" I ask. With my stomach as big as it is it would probably be best to do it sooner rather than later. Peeta smiles softly at me.

"Sure."

The next day Peeta, Haymitch and I board the hovercraft for District 12. Plutarch flies us home. When I finally reach my home, I'm stunned to see that Peeta planted primroses around it. What a beautiful memorial to my sister. I cry for a good ten minutes at that, my hormones out of control. When we finally enter the house, Peeta looks at me, kisses my cheek, and says,

"Welcome home, Katniss."


	18. Moments

**Author's Note: Glad to be back, guys! And I'm very excited to let you all know that the final chapter should be the next one! Until then, I hope you like this one! One paragraph is from the book.**

Over the next few days Peeta keeps me sequestered in our bedroom and bathroom. He says it's because he doesn't want me smelling any paint fumes, but secretly I suspect that he's worried that I'll take a peek into the baby's room. I don't have energy to do much else besides eat and sleep. I'm officially on bed rest at this point, my stomach has swollen fit to burst. I can't see my feet anymore (which may be a good thing considering that my mother told me pregnant women get really swollen ankles- ick.), and laying down I can't see anything over the round mountain of my stomach. I feel gross all the time because I can't shower every day like I used to. It takes two people to get me in there, since I can't really get up on my own. It's been more than a little scary having been reduced to this level of dependency on other people.

The two weeks allotted for Peeta to finish the baby's room are finally up, but he takes one extra day to air out the room. Just a standard precaution, he says. He covers my eyes and leads me into the room. The smell of fresh grass outside the room has moved inside. It smelled sweet in an odd sort of way.

Finally, Peeta removes his hands and I look. When I see it, I gasp.

The entire room has been painted to look like a giant sunset. It's so breathtaking that for a moment I thought I'd faint. The room itself is a stereotypical nursery. Beige wood covers the crib, changing table, and dresser. There's a rocking chair in one corner with a yellow blanket draped over the back. The crib has a few cuddly toys inside it, and a mobile of hand painted animals hangs over it. A lamb, bunny, fluffy bird, and cat spin around in a constant circle.

"Peeta, this is beautiful." I say with quiet amazement.

"It wasn't all me. Haymitch helped me move some of the furniture." My eyebrows shoot up in surprise, but I say nothing. I kiss Peeta on the lips and he gives me a boyish smile.

Now that the baby's room is done, Peeta and I have much more time to spend together. The house is fully furnished, and more importantly the rebellion is finally over. We are both finally allowed to be retired from being tributes, victors, rebels, and soldiers. I am finally allowed to hang up my wings as the Mockingjay. When I finally officially retire, I have one last project I want to take on before our baby arrives. A few days after Peeta showed me the baby's room, a large shipment of parchment comes to me from the Capitol.

I got the idea from our family's plant book. The place where we recorded those things you cannot trust to memory. The page begins with the person's picture. A photo if we can find it. If not, a sketch or painting by Peeta. Then, in my most careful handwriting, come all the details it would be a crime to forget. Lady licking Prim's cheek. My father's laugh. Peeta's father with the cookies. The color of Finnick's eyes. What Cinna could do with a length of silk. Boggs reprogramming the Holo. Rue poised on her toes, arms slightly extended, like a bird about to take flight. On and on. We seal the pages with salt water and promises to live well to make their deaths count. Haymitch finally joins us, contributing twenty-three years of tributes he was forced to mentor. Additions become smaller. An old memory that surfaces. A late primrose preserved between the pages. Peeta's face after a kiss from me. I doubt I'll ever stop filling the pages, but for now it's good enough. I set the book on the special shelf in our bedroom, where we can reach it anytime we need it.

Another week passes by like ships in the night. My due date is drawing near, and I'm getting more excited by the day. To my surprise there comes a knock on our door one Tuesday morning, and Peeta opens it to find Effie Trinket standing in front of us. As normally as ever, Effie greets us with her "big, big, big day!" Grin and her overly dramatic style of dress. Her optimism is a breath of fresh air and reminds me so much of Peeta. Nothing can stop those two from seeing the bright side.

Effie, of course, is absolutely enchanted by the tiny baby kicking away in my belly, and begins asking me all sorts of questions about it. I tell her about my troubles picking names and she helps me narrow my choices down. When I finally decide, I give Effie a big hug. Peeta actually brings Haymitch over so that we can ask them a question together.

"You guys have been really helpful to us, and have kept us alive," I begin. "If it weren't for the two of you we probably wouldn't be here right now."

"We thought of a dozen ways that we could of thanked you for all you've done for our family, but we thought this way would mean the most." Peeta adds. He looks at both Effie and Haymitch, and asks, "Would the two of you be our child's godparents?"

Effie, with a squeal of delight, accepts right away. Haymitch, who was more than a little stunned, needed some time to think. He looks at me with this inscrutable expression, and I can tell he's wondering what the hell just happened. He looks from me to Peeta, and then looks at the space of wall between us, thinking. Peeta goes into the kitchen and brings out a glass with ice and a bottle of scotch. After Haymitch has had a drink, he finally loosens up enough to accept. We all sit and talk for a few hours about this and that before they decide it's time to go, with hugs from Effie and a grumbled "goodbye" and wave from Haymitch, our house belongs to the two of us once more. We snuggle together on the couch until, exhaustedly, we fall asleep together.


	19. Miracles

I wake up the next day feeling full of promise and uncharacteristic optimism. Peeta kisses me and we decide to spend a lazy day in bed. We read books, cuddle, and occasionally make love, albeit awkwardly. Dinner time rolls around and Peeta goes into the kitchen to make some fresh bread. I wriggle my way up and try to get to the bathroom. I finally get on my feet and teeter precariously for a moment. The intense head rush makes my ears pound. I grip the slender piece of wood sticking up at the end of the bed to steady myself. When it finally stops I waddle to the bathroom and use the toilet. When I get up, I grip the counter so hard my hand turns red. I look at my reflection in the mirror. My hair is disheveled and scraggly, and my skin is washed out. My face feels sticky with sweat, and I feel like I'm broiling on the inside. I splash cool water across my face, and it feels so good that I decide to take a cold shower. When I get out the air is permeated with the smell of fresh bread.

Peeta and I eat together, both incredibly aware that the baby was coming very soon. We debated for a long time wether we wanted to bring in a doctor so I could deliver at home. After all was said and done, we asked Doctor Campbell into our home for the next few weeks until it finally came time for me to deliver. I didn't want my delivery to be some giant spectacle for the public to watch. It was much easier for me to decide to deliver in-home.

The week passed with little activity. Besides Effie and Haymitch, the only visitor I had was my Mother. When she looked at me, laying in my bed with my stomach being a mountain in front of me, I could see the flickering of emotion cross her face: happiness, pride, sorrow, and finally, love. She came over to me and gave my hand a gentle squeeze. Her blue eyes caught mine, and they were alive with memories. I know she's putting herself where she once was. Peeta's devotion to me must have perfectly mirrored my father's devotion to her. We never spoke aloud, but I could see everything she wanted to tell me. When she left I felt the life seeping out of me.

Another day came and went and my agitation began to build. When was my baby coming? When would I see it's angelic face or feel it's velvety skin?

The next day I pulled myself out of bed to go and sit outside to look at the flowers outside the house. I pluck a blossoming Primrose from a nearby bush and sniff it, smiling. They honor the memory of my sister beautifully. I put the rose to my stomach and wonder if my baby could smell it.

Suddenly, I felt water rushing down my legs and my breath hitched. The first contraction came, and I leaned against the house to get inside.

"Peeta! Peeta!" I call. With flour on his face and a white apron on, he comes rushing out to me, wiping his hands on his apron. When I look at him with agonized eyes, he lifts me into his arms and rushes me upstairs. He kneels at my bedside as I squeeze his hand hard enough to break it. My body is covered with sweat as I'm slowly torn apart from the inside. I scream at the top of my lungs as the hours grow longer and the reprieve between the contractions shorten.

Doctor Campbell speaks to me in a calm fashion that makes me want to put my hands around his throat. Fourteen hours pass before he checks my cervix and declares me dilated enough to start pushing. I scream like a banshee as I try pushing this baby out of me. After one more hour of the worst pain I've ever experienced, the pain stops as quickly as it came.

A cry pierces the air, and I see my baby for the first time. Peeta cuts the umbilical cord, and Doctor Campbell goes to clean off our baby. I weakly turn my head to Peeta, who is crying.

"Thank you." He whispers. I try and smile but fail. Suddenly, a baby is being placed in my arms.

"Congratulations, Mrs. Mellark, it's a beautiful baby girl."

A little girl wrapped in a pink blanket was placed in my arms. I looked at my little girl for the first time.

She was absolute perfection, with a shock of dark hair and the most adorable button nose I had ever seen. Her little lips were perfect and when her eyes opened, they were a brilliant shade of green.

With all the tenderness in the world, I planted a kiss on her head.

"Welcome home, Blossom Primrose Mellark." I look up at Peeta, whose tear stained face is looking at us.

"I love my girls." He says, and kisses us both.

My Mother, Effie, and Haymitch file into the master bedroom. All of them take a turn holding our little girl, and gushing over how adorable she was. When they all leave and just out family remains, Peeta sits beside me, just as awe-stricken with our daughter as I am. His arm is around my shoulders as Blossom slumbers in my arms. I look up at my husband, and see his goodness, his tenderness, and all the love that he has to give. I wouldn't be half the person I am today if it wasn't for him. I kiss him gently, so glad to share this moment with him.

"I love you." I say.

"And that makes me the luckiest man alive." He kisses me, and stares at our baby. I grip Peeta's hand in mine and give it a gentle squeeze. Before I met Peeta, I never believed in fairytales. Every day was a fight for survival, and nothing more. Now, Peeta has lit up my world with romance and magic. As I look down at the miracle we created together, I have come to believe in miracles. There is so much good left in the world- you just have to find it.


	20. Final Author's Note

**Thank you to all my dear readers who have followed and favorited this story. It truly has been a privilege writing this story for you all. I hope you have enjoyed this story as much as I have. Thank you for being such wonderful fans, and I hope this story has exceeded your expectations. You all have really made this story one worth writing. I couldn't have done it without your support.**

**Many Thanks,**

**Holly**


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